Day 13. Collapsing new buildings. (13/1/19)

Genuinely had no idea what to write about today.

It's been one of those days where I've not really done anything but haven't stopped moving. Going backwards from here:

Just finished watching Spurs lose to United in one of those games where you'd like both teams to lose but have to settle for one and find yourself in the horrible situation of supporting United because that nine point lead we have over Spurs is a bit lovely and Mourinho did such a fine job of destroying the Old Trafford season that they'll never recover enough to be a threat of any kind.

Prior to this: gave Matty a lift to his mates after watching the Everton game on TV with him. I say watching, I was ironing work shirts and paying half interest to the game. Work shirts ironed for this week. Only need to do this twice more. In my entire life. That's a lovely feeling. I'll work, it won't require work shirts. There were a couple of games of FIFA in there as well. I lost both. One only narrowly so that's an improvement.

Prior to that: taking J to Goodison, dropping her off, driving back.

This morning though? This morning was an early start. Me and our Tom went the cinema. Finally saw the new Spider-Man film. And loved it as much as everybody had said I would. Witty, sharp, brilliantly inventive in its constant interchanging of graphic styles and a lovely introduction to the wider world for the Miles Morales version of the web slinger.

That's not what I'm writing about though. But, what I'm going to write about concerns our Tom and his further understanding of exactly how much of a geek I truly am. Knowing I'd enjoy a Spidey film? Easy that one. We need to go further. We need to go back to Xmas.

Post degree this is Tom's first Xmas in full time, gainful, paid in actual money, employment. So he bought me and J gifts. We didn't expect them. The fact it happened was a lovely touch.

The fact he got mine so right was brilliant.

Two books.

One: the first collected volume of Judge Dredd. The original run of 2000AD strips collated. Stuff I read at the time (comics in that mass being sorted in the loft, somewhere), stuff I loved at the time, stuff I know I'll love again.

Two: a graphic novel, fictionalised, fantasised biography of Nick Cave. An interesting gambit, probably far more in keeping with the spirit of Saint Nick than any standard biography or critical evaluation would ever be. His work should represent his life, it should melt into it. We don't really want personal details, or at least we don't want personal details that we can rely on, we want the myth. We want the legend. This book is the myth.

160 pages into the book, 160 pages out of 304, and Nick is about to leave The Birthday Party. He's leaving them because he's moved to Berlin and he's heard Einstürzende Neubaten.

I worked out how to do the umlaut over the U. I'm impressed.

He's heard Neubaten and he's realised his band has nothing to say in comparison.

Now Neubaten were legendary for a short while in the eighties. If that's possible, if that makes sense. They eschewed the traditional rock'n'roll approach of... well, instruments and tunes and melody and all that outdated stuff, and they went for a more revolutionary approach.

Concrete. Pipes. Drills. Hammers. Smashed glass. Screaming. That kind of thing. Quite obvious and normal really.

And reading this section of the book it suddenly occurred to me: I've never actually listened to Einstürzende Neubaten. I'd read the reviews, read the articles and thought, "no, too scary for me that, too confrontational".

I've been wrong about that kind of thing before. I always assumed Big Black would be too much for me to take but they were actually just a little bit ordinary.

Equally, anybody who worked with me in the stockroom at HMV Church Street will testify to the fact that I'll listen to Captain Beefheart's 'Trout Mask Replica' and Lou Reed's 'Metal Machine Music' and not just claim to enjoy them as some kind of hipster pose but actually enjoy the bloody things. (MMM is 45 minutes of looped feedback. I find it quite relaxing.) They'll testify to the fact that my last day in that stockroom saw me play Metal Machine Music twice. In a row. God they loved me that day.

My next thought then: Apple Music. The entire history of recorded music in one place. Ten quid a month. Feel bad that the artists aren't getting anything off me playing this but Christ knows I've done my damnedest to support the music industry over the last thirty years. And if he doesn't know it then my wife will definitely testify on this.

So:

(Soundtrack: Einstürzende Neubaten 'Zeichnungen Des Patienten O.T.)

And you know what? It's okay. Lot of clanging. Lot of shouting in German. Some growling, some howling. Quite uncomfortable. Quite funny.

I like it. Don't know what that says about me. I find it fairly amusing. Really no idea at all what that says about me.

Other than I think I might have decided to listen to one thing I've never heard before every day. See how long that one lasts.